Cherry
by Ali989969
Summary: Eric meets someone unexpected when his vintage Corvette needs work on an important day. One Shot, AH, OOC. Basically an excuse for smut, so NSFW.


**A/N: For the record, my muses suck. I have been left with absolutely NO inspiration for days (maybe weeks?), despite the massive amounts of Skarsporn sent to my phone. MissyDee inspired this little one-shot with her Mechanic Eric in "Beautiful Disaster". Cuz she's awesome like that. She also beta'd this sucker for me and put up with my whining. Because I am a total child when I'm frustrated. Hope you enjoy. I sure did. I don't own these guys at all. If I did, I would have much better things to do than write. *exhausted giggle***

Of all the fucking days, this shit had to happen on the one when I had a meeting that could determine the future of my bar. My baby doesn't piss me off often, but when she does, she does it in a big way. "Come on, Sugar. Start for Daddy." Yes, I talk to my car like it has feelings and can understand me. You do too.

No matter what, when I crank the ignition, Cherry just sputters and whines at me like she has colic. I check my phone and see that my meeting is only forty-five minutes away. Shit! I head back into the house, calling my mechanic while flipping through the Yellow Pages to find the number for a cab company. Tray Dawson, the only person on Earth I trust with Cherry, laughs when I describe what happened and assure me that he'll have a tow truck come pick her up while I'm at my meeting.

"Eric, don't worry. I'll have her back up and running in no time. I actually just hired a mechanic that specializes in American classics. Your 'Vette is in incredible hands. Just tell me where you're leaving the keys. My guys don't want to lose what is going to be their favorite hangout."

I tell him that I'm leaving the keys in the flower pot by the front door, put them there so I don't forget, and call the closest cab company I can find. They tell me they'll be at my house in ten minutes, so I sit by my garage and wait. It'll take at least thirty minutes to get to the bar, so there will be little time for dawdling. As soon as I see the distinctive yellow car turn on to my street, I stand and meet it at the curb. I slide into the back seat and give the driver the address. While he drives, I look over the plans I have to make my bar start making money instead of hemorrhaging it.

I always wanted to have a live venue for bands to play, but my partner Sophie claimed the way to make money was to be "trendy", with high end drinks and selective asshole bouncers at the door only letting in a third of the people that show up. I hated it. And it was a losing venture, as it turned out. I scraped together what money I could, bought Sophie out, and tried to figure out how I could turn this clusterfuck back into my vision. I saved the numerous demo tapes of bands that had hoped to play when we first started, as well as put out feelers for newer acts that would draw a crowd. My meeting today was with some new investors that assured me that they were only interested in a profit; not in changing my vision. I already made changes with my liquor distributors and cleaned up the employee pool that had seemed filled with Sophie's friends. Once the dead weight was cut, the remaining workers were entirely on board with the new direction of Saga's Helm.

The cab pulls into the parking lot with two minutes to spare. I toss the guy a fifty for the thirty-five dollar fare, and rushed to the door. I let myself in and calmly walked to the table where Pam Ravenscroft, Alcide Herveaux, and Victor Madden all sit sipping on complimentary drinks. I smile and shake hands all around and sit in the remaining empty seat.

"Thank you all for meeting with me today. As you can see, we're under some extensive reconstruction. We've renegotiated the contracts with our alcohol and food distributors." I pull out the plans for everything I plan on doing now that Sophie and her demented ideas of "fun" and "classy" aren't muddling the picture. "You can see, while we are keeping some of the high end products, I modified the order to include more beer and more well and mid-range liquors. I also changed the kitchen set-up entirely. I got rid of the expensive appetizer menu that my previous partner came up with and stocked up on higher-end bar food, as well as a cook that can turn just about any ingredients into a masterpiece."

I step away from the table and head for the bar-kitchen pass through. I'm glad that Lafayette got my message to have some samples made and he hands them to me on a tray, winking at me. I wink right back and take the samples to the table with three plates.

"We have here some citrus marinated, grilled chicken breast. It can be on sandwiches or cut into strips for salads or to be served as is. We also have handmade onion rings, prime rib sliders, a bowl of ground-turkey chili that be served by itself or on nachos or fries. I also have a variety of salads and burgers that I plan on adding to the menu. I want Saga's Helm to be a place where you can see taking your coworkers out to lunch and returning that night to let your hair down and have a good time."

My three prospective investors take tastes of the food that I hand out to them and the food is gone sooner than I thought. Ms. Ravenscroft is the first to speak. "Mr. Northman, while I'm impressed with your vision and plans for your club, I have to ask the question, because I know my partners are wondering the same thing. How much money do you need to complete the renovations and how long will it take?"

Madden and Herveaux nod in agreement with her, since their mouths are full. I give her the contractor's estimate of the cash and money needed. The corner of her mouth tilts up in what I suppose could be the start of a smile. "And what percentage of Saga's Helm are you offering us for the price?"

While I hate parting with any piece of my business, I need to do it if I want to keep my dream alive. "I'm willing to give each of you seven percent, or twenty-one percent total for the investment."

Herveaux swallows and begins haggling. We take it down from his counter offer of forty-five percent and work until it's at thirty, which was what I was aiming for to begin with. Madden puts his finally empty plate on the tray and pulls out his laptop while I take the dishes back to the kitchen and thank Lafayette again for coming in.

Madden pulls up the partnership contract that had already been drafted, only needing to fill in the percentage and the money needed. I print off the forms, and after asking for time to have my lawyer look over the papers, we part company. I take off my suit jacket and loosen my tie before grabbing a beer from the cooler. I go back into the kitchen and talk to Lafayette about what should be happening in the next few weeks. If everything looks good to my attorney, we'll be reopening sooner than I had hoped.

I called Tray to check on the status of Cherry. He has always laughed at the name of my car, and this time is no different. "Dude, relax. I told you she would be in good hands, didn't I? Come on down and check it out for yourself. I might be able to cut you a discount if you bring in some of those sliders."

I head back into the kitchen and Laf makes me a huge platter of sliders plus a huge batch of onion rings as a bonus to take to the garage while I wait for another cab to show up. A twenty dollar fare and I see my baby, just slightly lifted, and a pair of legs sticking out from underneath. I assume this is the miracle worker that Tray hired for classic cars. A guy only slighter shorter than me heads out of the back office, greeting me with a huge smile. Tray is just a smiley kind of guy.

In lieu of a handshake, I had over the sandwiches and onion rings for him to put in the break room for his guys. At the smell of the food, we're swarmed by other mechanics that I've met: Hoyt, Remy, Sam, and Jason. Tray pulls a stack of paper plates out and hands them off to the guys. "I'm knocking half off the parts for this. It smells incredible."

I turn and see that the legs are still under my car, and I raise my eyebrows at the work ethic of the guy under the car, not even taking a break for free food. I look at Tray. "So who's the supposed genius with classics you've got under my baby over there?"

He chuckles. "Oh, I think you'll want to hear that from the maestro. But you know I wouldn't put Cherry with a novice. Give me a sec." He pops his head out the door. "Hey Stackhouse! Get your sweet ass back here and get some of the free food before it's gone! I want you to meet Cherry's owner."

Sweet ass? Alrighty, wasn't going to ask about _that_. I see the heavy boots that all the mechanics wear adjust so he can pull himself out from under the car on the little rolling creeper. When he stands, I see he isn't a _he_, but a she and a damn hot _she_ at that. Her blonde hair is coiled into a bun on top of her head and her blue eyes squint to adjust to the light now that she out from under the car. I know my jaw drops because _she_ is not what I was expecting when Tray told me he had an expert. She's wearing the standard coveralls that all the mechanics in the shop wear, but hers are different. She has the long sleeve top part unzipped and hanging loose around her waist. Her top is just a grease-smudged white tank top, showing her hot pink bra through the thin cotton. I know I'm drooling a little and try to wipe my chin discreetly, but Tray notices and laughs at me, yet again.

"Yeah, Jason's cousin Sookie. Her dad was a collector and loved restoring classics. She learned at his knee from the time she was old enough to hold a wrench. You couldn't be more surprised than I was when she applied for a job. But over the past couple of months, she's proven herself. Trust me, Sookie knows how to treat your baby."

She grabs a towel out of the waistband of her coveralls and wipes the grease from her hands as she walks back to the room where we're all congregated. She washes her hands before filling her plate with a couple of sliders and a handful of rings. I can see how little she is before she sits. I easily have a foot on her, but she looks up at me with disdain.

"Your alternator was shot, so I took care of that. But could you not smell the burning fucking oil? Did you not notice you were going through a quart or two a week? I swear, some people should be tested and certified before they should be allowed to own a beauty like that. I replaced the leaking seal and changed your oil."

Tray looks like he's going to choke on the laughter he's trying to swallow. She rolls her eyes at me and begins to eat the lunch I brought. She devours one of the sliders and promptly starts again. "The '58 is a gem and you were showing her no respect." She flicks her eyes up at me. "You should have brought her in two thousand miles ago."

"Well, Sookie, car maintenance isn't exactly my _forte_, like it obviously is yours. That's why I have guys like Tray on speed dial," I retort. Who does she think she is?

"And I think that if you're going to to put forth the investment in owning a _cherry_ vehicle like the one on my rack over there, you should know at least how to care for her properly. Hence, my belief in the testing and certification process for ownership." She continues eating and swallowing while the rest of her coworkers barely hide their snickers at her attitude. A people person, she's not.

"Is it ready to go? Is there anything else you'd like to insult about how I treat the inanimate vehicle that gets me from Point A to Point B or can I pay and go home?" It almost hurts to refer to her as an "it".

She rolls her eyes and heads back into the shop, lowering my baby back to the floor. She drives off the lift, throws her into park, and slides the seat all the way back for me. Well, at least that was courteous so I didn't have to try to get in with my knees in the dashboard. Tray tells me how much I owe and I take my girl home from her check-up, feeling all better after dealing with the mean ole nurse.

I relax in my office, feeling that I ultimately got accomplished what I wanted to do for the day. I fax copies of the partnership papers to Mr. Cataliades for review before I sign off on selling a part of my business and pull out some of the demos, trying to find a great live act for my grand re-opening.

One band stands out. "After South" had a great sound. Their singer has a gritty, gravelly voice like Chris Isaac and the backing musicians have a lot of talent. They play several mixed-genre covers as well as originals and have a decent following, based on the Google search I run, despite the lack of pictures. Their rider is pretty standard, so, if everything works out and I get the money to finish renovations, I want them to play it.

I spend the following weeks signing contact after contact and following the contractors like a puppy, making sure that everything is done to my exact specifications. The band agrees to play to opening and I start spreading the word and getting ads out for the opening. It's not like it's going to be any black-tie, formal thing, but I plan on making a big deal out of it.

Opening Night finally comes, and I'm more excited than a kid at Christmas. I pull on my black jeans and a white button down – casual, but classy. The buzz has been amazing and I know it's going to be busier than I thought. It's a good thing that I restaffed. There's no way Sophie's slacker friends could have handled the crowd we're going to have tonight.

I see a van and an SUV pull up to the stage doors at the back and throw a glance at the band as they unload their equipment and work to set it up. I check, then double and triple check that the bar is fully stocked and that Laf has the kitchen in shape to handle any orders that roll in. I keep myself from hyperventilating by taking my bottle of Knob Creek into my office and down a few discreet shots. Just enough to calm myself down.

I escort Pam, Alcide, and Victor to the small VIP section, a reluctant holdover from the Days of Sophie. The guests have their own waitresses, bartenders, and restrooms, so they shouldn't have to wait for anything. I get them set up with their drinks and head back down to the floor.

The doors officially open and the bouncers take the cover and carefully check IDs. The band is sound checking before starting their set. I wander around and help out where needed and end up slipping behind the bar to help out while one of the bartenders runs to grab more beer from the walk-ins.

A tiny little blond slip of a thing sidles up to the bar. "What can I getcha, hon?" I ask distractedly, my head bent by the cooler.

"Three bottles of Bud, five pitchers of ice water, and two Killians," she recites in a bored voice and the size of the order draws my eyes up. Black and white plaid Vans, black pin-striped capris that hug some killer legs, flat, toned, _bare_ stomach and a white halter top showing off some of the best cleavage I've seen... in a few weeks. Once I'm able to get my eyes past the perfect tits, I see a smartass smirk and turquoise blue eyes framed by wisps of blond hair. "How's Cherry?" Sookie asks with an arched brow.

I manage to not swallow my tongue and answer while I fill her order. "Running like a champ... even better than she did before. You are a certified miracle worker. She used to temperamental at best, but now she purrs like a kitten."

She smiles and flicks her blond braided pigtails over her shoulder. "A little special care and she'll give you the ride of your life." She winks and wiggles her eyebrows, adding a whole new level to what seemed like an innocent comment. She grabs the bottles by their necks and asks me to follow her with the water pitchers.

She heads backstage and hands out the beers: Buds to Jason, Remy, and a brunette female I'm not familiar with, hands one of the Killians off to another brunette girl, and claims one for herself. "You can put those anywhere. We have sport bottles we fill up for heading out. It gets hot under those lights."

She's in the damn band. Why am I surprised? "Care to introduce me to the ones I don't already know?" I ask.

She grins. She actually seems pleasant when she's not bitching me out over my car. "You already know Jason and Remy. Jason does vocals and Remy plays bass. The other Bud drinker is Dawn, Jason's girlfriend of several years on lead guitar. My fellow Killian drinker is my cousin Hadley, Remy's ex-wife and our rhythm guitar. It was a little awkward when they started chasing the same hot groupies, but it passed."

"So that puts you on drums?" I ask stupidly. Why does my brain freeze up around this girl?

"That's me." She spins a drum stick in her fingers and grins. "We're going on in about half an hour. See you out there.'

I head back out to the floor, stupefied. I think I may have found the perfect woman and I act like an idiot. She knows cars, especially classics, she plays music, she drinks dark beer, and has the body of a fucking goddess. I'm in for four extremely _hard_, uncomfortable hours.

At nine, the lights change and "After South" start their set with "Remedy" by the Black Crowes, followed by "Sweet Emotion", before transitioning into an original. The floor is packed and the bar is easily four deep. I run laps, making sure tables are covered and the bar remains fully stocked before I check on my VIPs.

"Eric, this is fantastic. If following nights are anything close to this, we're all going to be very happy and comfortably in the black," Pam states, the apparent spokesman for my group of investors "You obviously don't need to be overseen; it's clear you know what you're doing. Just send us a check each quarter and we'll stay out of your hair."

This is what I had been hoping for. The band takes their first break and the lights come up just a little before the radio station covering the opening comes over the speakers. I retreat to my office for a few moments of quiet and to give myself a chance to catch my breath. I lean back in my desk chair and close my eyes.

I hear the door open and close again. Looking up, I see Sookie, slightly sweaty with a wicked glint in her eyes. Not getting my hopes up, I ask, "What can I do for you Sookie? Everything okay out there?"

"Everything's fine out there. We have two more sets to play and I have a little nervous energy I need to burn off before we take the stage again. I can only think of a few ways that I can do that before we go back on." Her hand reaches behind her and flips the lock on the door knob. "I haven't been misinterpreting things, have I?"

I shake my head mutely. Never, not once, can I _ever_ remember wanting someone like I want her right now. She takes long strides over to my desk and straddles me in my chair. Fuck, our hips fit together perfectly. She leans in and lightly runs the tip of her tongue over my lips before kissing me hard. I slide my tongue into her mouth and let it tangle with hers. She tastes a little like her beer, but it's not unpleasant. She runs her fingers through my hair and pulls it a little, making me groan.

"How long until the next set?" I ask, breaking away from her before I lose myself in how damn amazing her mouth is.

"Uh..," she checks her watch, "about ten minutes."

Damn. Not enough time to do everything I want to her, and it would be cruel to both of us to start something we can't finish. "We don't have enough time, Sookie. Come back when you guys are done breaking set and maybe we can burn off some of that nervous energy together."

She arches a prefect blond eyebrow and smirks. "Oh, I have enough time for what I want to do. You don't have to do a damn thing, darlin'."

God, that drawl gets me every time. I love living in the south. She stands and turns me slightly in the chair so I'm not facing the desk. She unbuckles my belt and works loose the waistband of my jeans, gesturing for me to lift my hips to help as she works them down.

I've been hard from the moment she walked into my office and my cock springs up as soon as it's free from his denim cage. Her eyes widen and she smiles, licking her lips. She kneels and slowly strokes me. "I've wanted to do this since I saw you eying my pretty pink bra when I got out from under your Cherry. I have always wondered if men in cars like that really had some sort of inferiority complex, but you are clearly not compensating for _anything_." She dips her head and places a strangely chaste kiss on my tip before running her tongue over my length. My eyes roll back and moan with the wet warmth that only serves to make me harder. Her lips wrap around me and she sinks down slowly, letting me savor the sensation.

She knows exactly the speed and suction to use to keep me on the edge without taking me all the way over, drawing out my pleasure. I can't help but grasp at the back of her head as she swallows around me. I can't look away from watching myself disappear into her mouth over and over. She giggles softly at hearing my moans and ups her efforts, taking me deeper and swirling her tongue around my cock. She runs her fingernails over my balls, squeezes them lightly, and makes me lose it. I don't have time to warn her before I shoot my release down her throat.

She continues sucking and licking until I'm totally soft. She lets me slip from her mouth and licks her lips. "That was just what I needed." _What _SHE_ needed?_ "The next set is kind of short, but I switch with Jason toward the end. I think you might want to hang out and check out some of my favorite songs. I look forward to continuing this later." She winks, dusts off her knees, and walks out the door without looking back. Fuck, I think I just fell a little in love.

I come out of the office in time to see her rejoin her band-mates on stage. She grabs another Killians out of the ice bucket provided by the bartender and sips on it while discussing the songs for the next set. I make my rounds again, making sure everything is still running smoothly.

It sounds a little off without horns, but they do a pretty passable job on ska/swing songs from the ninety's and I wonder what song Sookie is going to be torturing me with at the end of the current set. I see Jason and Sookie start to switch positions on the stage and I lean against the bar to watch.

Dawn's fingers fly over the neck of her guitar for the intro and Sookie adjusts the mike stand for her height. Jesus. "Smooth". The sultry guitar has nothing on Sookie's vocals. And the way that she moves with the microphone... I am _so_ screwed.

The set ends and I pick up some slack behind the bar as the dance floor clears. I barely have a spare moment to breathe before the final set starts, again with Sookie on vocals. They do a few country style songs before Sookie takes over on the drums and Jason is back up front. I signal the bartenders to make Last Call at one-thirty as the band is finishing their last set and realize that, although closing time is coming up, _my_ night is no where near finished and will probably have to come in tomorrow to finish up the paperwork from tonight and prepare for the next night.

When the house lights come all the way back up, I see several customers wince and squint their eyes from the harsh contrast between the dark and light. It's time to close and get the alcohol off the floor. The lighting change is meant to be abrupt and get people to move their asses toward the door. The band starts breaking their set down and taking it through the back doors. After the drum set is loaded, Sookie comes back in and stares at me from the back of the stage, her expression telling me exactly what she wants and her eyes asking if it's going to happen.

I flick my eyes and take the back stairs to the now vacant VIP lounge. It's up to her whether or not to follow me. I make sure the bar and restrooms are empty. I don't really want to be interrupted. The room is furnished with black leather sofas and overstuffed chairs that overlook the stage. I close the flaps for the overlook that were designed for private parties of a more... adult variety. I was never more grateful that I had decided kept them.

I hear a heavy door slam and spin around. Sookie stands there with a grin on her face. "Nice little play den you have up here. Quite... convenient."

"I never really came up here before. It was more of a room for my former partner to use to spoil her friends. But it's private and more comfortable than my office."

She raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Riiiight..."

I advance toward her and pull her to me, her back to my chest. I inhale and smell a strange and intoxicating mix of vanilla, smoke, alcohol, and something that has to be just "Sookie". "You've had me hard all fucking night," I growl in her ear. "I'm sure that's exactly what you intended, isn't it?"

She shifts against me, grinding her perfect ass against my erection. "I always get the results I want when I decide to... mmm... apply myself. I focus my entire being when I have a specific goal in mind."

"And what were you focusing yourself on tonight, Little One?" I ask with a smirk of my own, before nipping at her neck.

"Oh God, do that again. I.." she stutters as I repeat my actions, "I want you. I've wanted you since I saw you the first time. The fact that you're here tonight is just a happy coincidence." She presses herself against me more and rubs against me. "I want to finish what was started back in your office earlier."

I spin her around and capture her mouth in a hard kiss. I hold her head to mine with one hand and grab her ass with the other. I savor the feeling of her small body crushed against me and try to blindly maneuver my way to one of the couches. Finding one, I tilt back and pull her down on top of me, never breaking the kiss.

She pulls back and sits up, straddling my lap. Silently, she begins unbuttoning my shirt, following her fingers with her mouth on each sliver of bare skin that she reveals with each button. After she has the it completely undone, she slides her hands over my chest and down my shoulders, taking the shirt off completely. Wanting to return the favor, I reach behind her neck and pull loose one of the bows holding her halter top up. Releasing the strings, I see the best breasts I have ever seen. I reach further down her back and untie the other bow and let the top fall off her entirely.

Her breasts fill my palms and I tweak her nipples slightly between my thumb and index fingers. She moans and arches her back, pushing them harder into my hands. I can't help but lean down and capture one of her small, pink nipples between my lips and her moans get louder. I bite softly and she squeaks before threading her fingers into my hair, holding me to her. I keep one hand on the tit not in my mouth and run the other up her leg from her knee to her thigh. I feel the heat and dampness between her legs through her pants and don't really want to wait any longer.

She obviously feels the same when she pushes me back and stands. She kicks off her Vans and slowly unbuttons her capris. Hooking her thumbs in the empty belt loops, she inches them down her smooth, tan legs, never breaking eye contact. Her white lace thong contrasts against the deep bronze of her skin and she looks down at me. "You're overdressed, Eric."

I quickly stand and toe off my shoes. I've been spun up before, but I'm in a state where I'm ready to shred my clothes if it means getting inside her sooner. I fumble with my belt before her nimble fingers push mine aside. "Allow me," she chuckles.

****My pants and boxers come off quickly and she wraps her hand around me, stroking me firmly. "Shit, Sookie, that feels so damn good..."

****She releases me and slides her sexy little thong down her legs. She is completely bare and one of the sexiest women I've seen in a long time. She lightly pushes me back so I'm sitting on the sofa bare-assed and she climbs on my lap. She grabs my head for another blistering kiss and the feeling of her hard nipples against my bare chest makes me want to growl again. She wraps her fingers in my hair again and pulls my hair, just a little. "I want you now."

I don't even think to argue. I've wanted her all fucking night. I grab a condom from the pocket of my pants and roll it on. She runs her lips and tongue over my neck, nipping every now and then, waiting.

I run my fingers through her folds and she is soaking wet. I slide a finger into her and she moans against my chest. "More..."**  
**

I ease a second and then a third finger into her, wanting her prepared for me. Her hips rock as she grinds herself on my hand. My thumb extends to stroke her clit and she arches toward me, her breathy cries warming my skin. Her walls pulse, then clench down around me, drenching my hand as she screams her climax.

She pants against my shoulder as I twist and lay her lengthwise on the couch. There's no point in even attempting to talk or make a smartassed comment like I normally would. I don't have enough blood left in my brain to think all that coherently anyway. As she shivers from aftershocks beneath me, I line myself up with her entrance and slowly ease myself in. She's so fucking tight, it's almost a fight to get in. She wraps her legs around my waist and pushes me deeper with her heels on my ass. I guess that answers the unspoken question of whether or not I'm hurting her.

I rock back and forth, until my hips are flush with hers. She reaches up and pulls my head down for another scorching kiss. I reach between is and palm her breasts, making her arch into me again. I slide out until just my tip rests inside her, before I push into her hard.

"Jesus Fuck! God, do that again!" she cries out against me, so I do. I multi-task like a master, kissing her mouth and neck, playing and tweaking her nipples while fucking her hard and fast. She's been torturing me all night and this is my reward.

My groans and growls mix with her cries and moans as skin slaps skin. I pull out and position her against the back of the couch. She sticks her ass out as she spreads her legs and looks over her shoulder at me. I give her my evil grin and thrust into her again. I use her hips like the handles God must have intended them to be, pulling her ass into my hips. She punctuates every thrust with a moan or a curse, making my evil grin reappear.

Her hips start bucking against mine without my assistance and I take the cue to move my hands. I stretch my body over hers and reach under her to grab her tits again, pinching her nipples as they bounce and sway. I know I'm going to come soon; her pussy is heaven and I'm fucking ready to go into the light. I straighten up and rub her clit in tight circles, wanting her to come again before I do.

Her back arches and stiffens as she screams with her orgasm. I follow right behind, unable to hold off any longer with her wet heat pulsing, milking me. I take a moment to regain my senses before I slide out of her, letting her collapse over the back of the couch, breathless. I make my way to the restroom to flush the condom and return with some clean towels from behind the bar so she can clean up. I try to make a mental note to clean up in here personally before opening tomorrow.

She tidies up and begins redressing, asking for my help in tying the little strings of her top. Once we're both reasonably presentable, she stretches up on her toes and places a small kiss on my neck. "Eric, that was fucking awesome. Give me a call next time Cherry needs a check-up, 'kay?" She tosses a white business card on the bar and leaves.

Yep, definitely interested. My baby might have to be checked out again soon.

**A/N: Just a little note on the name of Eric's bar. I've used the name before and I frigging love it. Saga is the Norse goddess of songs, speech, stories, etc. She was also Odin's drinking buddy. How appropriate for a bar that plays live music? Hope you enjoyed. Please leave me some review love so maybe my muses will return and gift me some more chapters.**


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